Remember the old expression, “Getting there is half the fun”? That fell into disuse as the auto industry drove passenger trains into near-extinction, highways clogged faster than arteries on a fast-food diet, and getting to and from the airport took longer than a transatlantic flight. The security measures adopted post-9/11 only added to the hassle and made flying at least as much fun as getting a tooth drilled without novocaine.

But there is one activity where getting there is one of the great pleasures of life: walking in the woods, especially if the walk ends up at a remote trout pond or a secret pool on a river. I love the narrow, ancient footpaths, carpeted with moss and evergreen needles, that twist and turn through the forest. The intoxicating aroma of balsam, the musty scent of nature in decay and rebirth; the sightings of wildlife; the songs of birds – these things make magic of even a short walk in the woods. Which is why I think the ATV is one of the worst possible applications of those useful technologies, the wheel and the internal combustion engine. An ATV in the woods is, not to put too fine a point on it, an obscenity.

One day as the Bro and I were preparing to walk in to a favorite trout pond, a very large pickup truck pulled up in front of us and two very large fellas climbed out. In the bed of the truck were two ATVs. We watched as the guys lowered the tailgate, wrestled a ramp into position, rolled the machines off the truck, reloaded the ramp in the truck bed, closed the tailgate, started their machines with a dual roar, and started off toward the pond. What had a few minutes before been the pleasant prospect of a walk on a long-abandoned logging trail was transformed into a sort of death march – the death of the trail, the tranquillity, and countless plants, frogs, worms and other woodland life crushed under the treads of the two machines. The trail has lots of ups and downs and several wet spots, including a little stream crossing. For a walker these present no problem and add to the interest of the journey. But for the two massive men and their machines, it meant they had to grind over the terrain at a slower-than-walking pace. It meant churning up the wet places into ugly hog-wallows. It meant sending mud and silt down the little stream. All the while the two engines roared, destroying the peace and quiet of a beautiful piece of the Maine woods for anyone within at least a half-mile in any direction, and fouling the clean Maine air with their exhausts. The riders couldn’t have heard a parrot squawk if it had been sitting on their shoulders, to say nothing of songbirds. And they actually could have gotten there faster walking! But they didn’t walk. Why? They certainly could have used the exercise. Instead they inflicted cruel punishment on a trail and its life forms, and on anyone else in the area.

I recall reading, in some outdoorsy publication, the words of some “sportsman” extolling the virtues of ATVs. He claimed, without apparent irony, that the ATV had gotten him to places that he could not have otherwise reached. Hello??? If he had gotten his fat butt off his machine and walked, he could have not only gotten to more places but would not have ruined the journey for anyone who had to follow in his ruts.

I'm not alone in my intense dislike of ATVs, nor is their impact limited to a little trail in Maine. Google the phrase "damage from ATVs" and you will get around 1,270,000 entries, posted from all over the country and Canada.

Motorheads of the world: take a hike.